Sherlock: The Teddy Bear Murders
by IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: Written for the Sherlockology competition. Mycroft brings Sherlock a case. Can they solve it with as little bickering as possible? Rated T for murder.


**SHERLOCK**

**THE TEDDY BEAR MURDERS**

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_**Written for the Sherlockology competition. Mycroft brings Sherlock a case. Can they solve it with as little bickering as possible? Rated T for murder.**_

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_**Author's Note:**_

_**Pairings: Can be read as Johnlock and Mystrade romantic or friendship.**_

_**About: The Sherlockology website had a competition going where you could submit a story based on any Sherlock Holmes canon. I wrote this. Mycroft brings a serial killer case to Sherlock.**_

_**Ownership: Original characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle. These versions belong to Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. I just get to play.**_

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**BETA: chasingriver**

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John Watson had seem some strange things in his time. Men and women crying as they were diagnosed with some uncurable illness, men with their legs torn off from road-side bombs.

And since moving in with Sherlock Holmes, things had just gotten weirder. Strange-coloured liquids bubbling away in beakers, heads in the fridge...

The strangest thing by far had to be walking into the sitting room to find Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes glaring at a teddy bear. John paused by the door to watch as the Holmes brothers stared.

Finally Sherlock broke the silence.

'I don't understand why you brought it here.'

'I've told you countless times, surely you haven't lost your hearing?' Mycroft mused.

Sherlock pouted. 'I'm younger then you, let's not forget that.'

'Ah, but I don't run around London and fill my veins with poison.'

'But it's okay to poison your lungs with cigarette smoke?'

'My smoking habit isn't important, stop changing the subject.'

'I'm not,' Sherlock growled.

'You are,' Mycroft retorted.

Though they appeared calm, John could sense a Holmes meltdown on the way and made his appearance known.

'Ah, John,' Mycroft smiled politely. 'Have you grown weary of standing by the door?'

'Leave him alone,' Sherlock mumbled.

'What did I do?' Mycroft asked.

Sherlock scowled before staring back at the bear.

'Um... why are you having a staring contest with a bear?' John asked.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow as his little brother asked, 'What's a staring contest?'

'What you and I do, Sherlock, where we stare at each other until one cracks,' his brother explained.

'Ah,' Sherlock nodded. 'I can't have a staring contest with a bear, John,' he tutted. 'A bear cannot stare, it isn't real.'

'Bears are real, as are teddy bears,' Mycroft said. 'You should have made it clear you meant the teddy bear doesn't have a conscious mind, therefore they don't have eyes and can't stare at you.'

Sherlock ignored him and John sighed. _Bloody Holmeses_, he thought before sitting.

'Again I ask why you're staring at a bear,' John said.

'Mycroft brought it over,' Sherlock mumbled.

'Why?'

'Bears of its type have been left at five different assassinations these past few weeks,' Mycroft answered. 'I was just wondering what Sherlock could make of it.'

'Simply because you're too lazy to look yourself,' Sherlock said with more than a hint of teasing.

Mycroft brushed Sherlock's snarkiness aside. 'I have better things to do then investigate assassinations.'

John wondered, for about the billionth time, just what Mycroft Holmes _did_.

'Give up, John,' Sherlock said as he stood to stare down at the bear. 'Mycroft is the British Government, what exactly you will never know.'

'Must we have this discussion again?' Mycroft asked with a slight sigh.

'You claim to occupy a minor position,' his brother muttered, 'yet you control all of London's CCTV cameras, have access to all public telephones, can keep me out of prison, and can kidnap a doctor right off the street.'

Mycroft smiled broadly. 'It's only kidnapping if the person is taken unwillingly.' He glanced at John. 'And you got into my car voluntarily.'

John just shook his head and ignored them, not wanting to be dragged into the argument. It would just end badly for him with either a sulky Sherlock or a stalking Mycroft.

'John, would you like to hear about the case?' Mycroft asked suddenly.

'No!' Sherlock shouted, throwing a glare at his brother. 'That's _my _job! There have been five murders in the past two months-'

'Each has been done by a single person,' Mycroft cut in, much to Sherlock's annoyance and John's amusement. 'One gunshot wound to the right temple. Each victim, male-'

'Was found on their back, in bed, after sexual intercourse,' Sherlock butted in, a scowl on his pink lips. 'All were tall, at least six foot tall, with greying-brown hair and blue eyes. Nothing was missing, every surface wiped down, and a single teddy bear left on the victim's chest.'

'Their computers were missing, Sherlock,' Mycroft reminded his brother.

'So what are you thinking?' John asked.

'Clearly not robbery,' Mycroft said.

'How long did it take you to rule _that _out?' Sherlock demanded.

Mycroft just smiled. 'So... not robbery, the person wouldn't murder someone just to steal a computer. And the teddy bear is clearly a sign.'

'Clearly,' Mycroft agreed.

Sherlock opened his mouth (no doubt to snap at Mycroft) when there was a knock on the open door. John and Sherlock looked up to see Greg Lestrade, the DI smiling at them.

'Ah, I see Mycroft told you about the teddy bear murders.'

'What?' Sherlock shouted. Mycroft smiled as Lestrade looked from one brother to the other. 'He told _you _first?'

'Er...' Lestrade began.

'As you have so kindly told me in the past, dear brother,' Mycroft said, '_you _don't work cases for me. So I thought I'd call in Scotland Yard's finest- your words, not mine.'

Sherlock had mumbled, 'Scotland Yard's finest,' sarcastically under his breath and glared at Mycroft when he was caught.

'As I was saying,' Mycroft continued, 'Gregory is Scotland Yard's finest and was more than willing to help me. He has the clearance to handle this delicate matter and I trust him.'

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as Lestrade sat beside John. 'No idea I had any clearance at all,' the older man commented and John snorted.

'Have you found anything?' the younger Holmes demanded.

Lestrade looked at him. 'No fingerprints, no DNA, the locks were all in perfect order so the victim either trusted or knew the murderer.'

'Mycroft could have found that out with a text,' Sherlock said.

'I'm a busy man, Sherlock,' his brother replied.

'So...' Sherlock said, ignoring Mycroft and turning his back on the room. 'Not a break and enter, killed the same way, a symbol or totem left...' He was going into thinking mode and no one else mattered then... well, except John, if only to shout ideas at.

'Do you have crime scene photos?' Sherlock demanded suddenly and Lestrade nodded. He pulled a manila folder from his coat pocket and unrolled it, handing it across. Sherlock snatched it up, looking like a greedy little boy on Christmas. He ran across the room and threw himself into a chair, quickly spreading the photos across the already cluttered table.

Sherlock busied himself with the photos while John made tea for their guests. Mycroft and Lestrade were chatting like old buddies and John mused about their relationship as he waited for the kettle to boil. He'd heard from Sherlock that Lestrade had known Mycroft for six years (Mycroft had kidnapped the DI like he had John).

Sherlock was still busy as John re-entered the room and handed Mycroft and Lestrade their cups.

'So, Mycroft, why is this _your _case?' the doctor asked as he sat on the sofa. 'I mean... they seem like normal murders.'

'The last victim was a man I worked with,' Mycroft answered. 'My superiors want this solved quickly in case it's a plot to spy on a new plan my associate had in the works.'

'And that plan would be?' Lestrade asked.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow over his mug. 'Gregory, you know I can't talk about that.'

_Minor government position my arse_, both men thought as they drank their tea.

'What kind of gun?' Sherlock asked from across the room.

'9mm handgun,' Lestrade answered.

'Common,' Sherlock scoffed, like the killer had insulted him by choosing an easily obtainable weapon. 'Close range, not opposed to blood and gore... either experienced with it or insane.'

'Clearly,' Mycroft muttered but Sherlock ignored him.

Suddenly the younger genius jumped up to go through the documents that accompanied the photos. 'Any suspects?'

'Three that Gregory and I dismissed,' Mycroft said. 'Another politician had a fight with the fifth victim but he was in Fiji when the second and fourth murders occurred.'

'I thought it might be the wife of the fifth victim,' Lestrade said, 'but she was at her sister's when the murder took place.'

'Did the sister corroberate that?' Sherlock asked.

'Er... yeah,' the DI answered.

'The wife of the fifth victim was knocked out on sleeping pills on the sofa,' Mycroft said, flicking imaginary lint from his sleeve. 'It took Gregory's officers ten minutes to wake her up.'

Sherlock's eyes narrowed but he waited for their third suspect.

'An assistant who works below me who was... ah, indisposed, during the last murder,' Mycroft finished.

John raised his eyebrows. 'Indisposed?'

Mycroft refused to answer and Lestrade grinned, winking at the doctor.

'_Oh_,' John said and chuckled. 'Indisposed like Irene Adler type of indisposed?' he whispered.

Lestrade snorted into his tea and Sherlock looked at him, clearly annoyed. 'Lestrade!'

'Sorry, sorry,' the DI coughed.

Mycroft grinned and John giggled.

'Mycroft, I need your car,' Sherlock suddenly announced.

'Why?' Mycroft asked.

'Do you want me to solve this or not?' Sherlock demanded as he threw on his coat and scarf.

'You have a suspect?' Lestrade asked.

Sherlock shrugged. 'Maybe; Mycroft, car.'

'Downstairs, brother, I won't need it back until six.'

'Like you don't have a dozen others waiting around the corner,' Sherlock said.

'Do you need me?' John asked before Mycroft could retort.

Before Sherlock could answer, Mycroft's BlackBerry buzzed. All eyes went to him as the politician slid it from his pocket.

'Mycroft Holmes,' he answered. A rust-coloured eyebrow slowly rose until it stopped just below his hairline. 'Are you sure? Where? I'm on my way.'

He hung up and Sherlock said, 'Another one?'

'Yes, a woman this time,' Mycroft said as he stood gracefully and smoothed down his expensive suit. 'Gregory, Sherlock, John, would you like to come?'

'Sure,' John said and Lestrade nodded

'I'll meet you there, text me the location, and take Lestrade's car because I still need yours,' Sherlock said quickly and took off before anyone could say anything.

{oOo}

Unlike the first five killings, this one was outside in a large, open park. The area had been cordoned off by Mycroft's people who all stood around the park. Mycroft was let in quickly, John and Lestrade following behind.

Mycroft and Lestrade stood over the body as John did his doctor thing. He checked the woman over quickly before pulling back. 'Late thirties, she was beaten before being shot in the chest twice.'

'It looks like a crime of passion,' Lestrade commented. 'Her hands show defensive wounds...' He trailed off, frowning. 'Wait, that's-'

'The sister-in-law of the fifth victim, Mary Chan,' Mycroft answered.

John and Lestrade both stared at him but Mycroft didn't say any more. They waited as Mycroft, their resident genius, looked the body over carefully.

'Oh.'

Sherlock crashed the crime scene before John or Lestrade could ask what Mycroft knew.

'Sherlock, did you find her?' Mycroft asked.

'Yes, she came quietly,' Sherlock said.

'Who?' Lestrade and John asked in unison.

'Jealousy?' Mycroft queried.

'Sex and jealousy as is the case most of the time,' his younger brother answered. 'At least for the first five murders. This one was revenge.'

'Of course,' Mycroft nodded. 'Where is she?'

'Scotland Yard with Lestrade's people,' Sherlock said.

Mycroft nodded and stepped away to make a call, leaving John and Lestrade to stare at Sherlock.

'What's going on?' John demanded.

'I caught the killer,' Sherlock said.

'How?' Lestrade gaped.

Sherlock smirked, always glad to have an audience. 'It was obvious,' he said dismissively but of course launched into an explanation. 'All the murders were the same; the murderer was let in, they engaged in sex, the man was killed and the murderer left.

'All the victims were late thirties or early forties of similar build and facial features, leading me to believe that it was jealousy or some type of ritual; the killer, clearly a woman, was infatuated with someone she couldn't have and her brain snapped; she resorted to killing.'

'The laptops?' John asked.

'Cover up to make it look like something more than it was,' Sherlock said. 'The teddy bears as well, they meant nothing. The murderer watched too many cop shows and thought she could throw us off her scent.'

'Go on,' Lestrade said when Sherlock paused.

'There was nothing to tie the victims other than their looks. I read over all the victims' life stories that Lestrade and Mycroft kindly put together-' John snorted but Sherlock ignored him, '-and found that they were all single, with no real enemies. All except one.'

'Which one?' John asked.

'The fifth victim, Jeremy Smith,' Sherlock said. 'He was married, worked with Mycroft so clearly a good job, good man, kind to his wife... but his sister-in-law had a habit of getting high and sleeping around. She'd been found in numerous brothels around London when the brother-in-law went looking for her.

'The wife, Josie, was at her sister's the night Smith was killed,' Sherlock continued. 'She was knocked out on sleeping pills. Why? She and her husband had fought, as was written in the police statement. Lestrade, you dismissed her because it took you ages to wake her. Mycroft too dismissed her because, like the idiot he is, he trusted your opinion.'

Lestrade was too used to Sherlock badmouthing people to ask him to apologise, especially to Mycroft.

'So it wasn't the wife?' John asked. 'Or was it?'

'The sister _and _the wife,' Sherlock said.

John and Lestrade stared at him.

'Honestly,' the genius sighed, 'you people are so-'

'Stupid, we know,' Lestrade cut him off.

'Just tell us already,' John added.

'Smith's sister-in-law, Mary Chan,' he said and pointed at the body they were standing over, 'was obsessed with Smith. She dated him in high school before he fell in love with the other one. Mary finally cracked and started sleeping with and killing men who looked like Smith to get back at him and feed her own psychosis; typical mental person.

'Anyway, she then went after Smith, killed him like the others. Josie suspected her and confronted her here in the park. They fought, Mary pulled the gun, and Josie got it and beat her with it before shooting her.'

There was silence after Sherlock's declaration, the man smiling smugly.

'That's...' Lestrade began.

'Brilliant,' John said. 'You got all of that because the wife was knocked out on pills?'

Sherlock nodded. 'Clearly Mary could have sneaked away and performed the fifth murder while her sister was out of the way. I realised the teddy bears had no significance whatsoever and went from there.'

'How'd Mycroft miss all that the first time around?' John asked. 'He put it together as soon as he saw Mary's body.'

'He's lazy,' Sherlock said with a shrug. 'He let Lestrade do the leg work and as usual the police failed.'

Lestrade rubbed his eyes. 'You're the reason I keep smoking, Sherlock.'

Sherlock just grinned and bounced away, high off of solving the case.

John and Lestrade looked down at the body of Mary Chan, pale and swollen in death.

'I thought it'd be a lot more interesting,' John said, 'what with the toys and all.'

Lestrade chuckled. 'Sherlock's warped you.'

'Nah, I was warped before him,' the doctor said before saying, 'I realised something earlier.'

'What?' Lestrade asked.

John grinned. 'You're like Mycroft's John.'

The DI was clearly confused.

'Think about it,' the doctor said. 'He drags you all over England, gets you out of bed at odd hours, considers you his only friend, and thinks you're intelligent.'

'Also,' John continued, 'you like him despite his social disorder. You think he's brilliant, you're always willing to help him no matter what, and consider him your best friend.' His grin broadened. 'You're to Mycroft what I am to Sherlock; the friend, the confidant, the man to ground him.'

Lestrade stood completely still, trying to fight the shorter man, but came up empty. He swore loudly when he realised John was right.

John burst out laughing. 'And here you felt sorry for me.'

Lestrade groaned. 'I hate you.'

'Do not.'

'I hate _them_.'

'Do not,' John repeated.

Lestrade smirked. 'Idiots, aren't we? Wouldn't change it though.'

'God, no,' John shook his head.

'John, come along!' Sherlock shouted.

'Lestrade, I need you!' Mycroft ordered.

The two men turned to see both Holmeses glaring at them. Sherlock had his arms folded, staring at John in clear annoyance, while Mycroft's eyes were on Greg, hand tapping at his Blackberry.

'We're mad,' Lestrade said as he walked towards Mycroft.

'Absolutely,' John nodded, walking to Sherlock. 'But it's the very best way to live.'

**{fin}**


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